I was astonished at this revelation, and for a moment doubted his character, thinking that his aim might be to betray me for a selfish advantage. I put a few hasty questions to him, to test his knowledge of the Federal army. The answers were satisfactory, and seeing nothing but truth in his clear eye, I hesitated no longer, but asked: "What can I do for you?" He answered: "Can't you write me a pass, and sign the commander's name to it?" "That," I returned, "would probably be detected; but I think I can put you on a better plan. Take that overcoat," pointing to one belonging to Wells, and lying on the foot of a bed, "put it around you, and just walk past the guards as independently as though you owned the entire establishment. It is now nearly dark, and the chances are that you will not be halted by the guard at all." "A good idea," said he, "I'll try it." At once folding himself in the coat, he bade me an affectionate adieu. Eagerly I sat with beating heart in the deepening twilight, listening for any sound that might betray the success or failure of the scheme; but all was silence. I have since learned that the guard, seeing the familiar coat, supposed that, of course, its owner was in it, and allowed it to pass unchallenged! A moment after, the sergeant came in, and I instantly engaged him in conversation, inducing him to tell some good stories, to keep him from missing my companion, and to allow as much time for a start as possible, before the inevitable alarm was given. I succeeded perfectly for some five minutes, when Wells came in, threw an uneasy glance around the room, and at once exclaimed: "Sergeant, where is that officer?" The sergeant protested that he knew nothing about him; that he was not in the room when he entered. Wells then turned to me, and demanded: "Pittenger, where's that officer?" "What officer?" "That officer I put in here." "Oh! that drunken fellow?" "Yes; where is he?" "The last I saw of him, he picked up his coat, and said he was going to supper."[8] [8] I do not pretend to justify the falsehoods recorded in this book. But it is better to give a _true_ narrative, and bear the censure awarded by the reader, than to increase the guilt by omitting or misrepresenting facts. "Going to supper, was he! Ho! I see it! Sergeant, run to the guards, and tell them if they let him out, I will have every one of them hung up by the heels." This was rather a useless punishment, considering that the prisoner was already far away. But the sergeant departed to muster the guards. Shortly after, Wells, who had resumed his seat, said in a meditative tone: "Had he a coat?" "I suppose so, sir," I returned, "or he would not have taken it." "Where did he get it?" "Off the foot of that bed." Wells sprang to his feet as quickly as though he had been galvanized, kicking over the chair on which he had been sitting, and exclaimed: